Page 87 of A Rogue to Watch Over Me
She swallowed against a sudden lump in her throat. How could he possibly think she would want him to acquire a building—of all things—for her benefit? Surely, he did not think she would allow him to provide the flat in which she lived, much less the place which housed her library. Such an act would have been exceedingly generous had they been husband and wife. But they were nothing of the sort. They’d shared a bed, but he’d spoken no words of commitment, no words of love. She did not expect charity from this man. And she certainly would not settle for being this—or any man’s, for that matter—mistress.
“Make me happy?” As she repeated his words, a spark of indignation took hold, flaring into a flame. Her incredulous words poured out before she could hold them back. “Might I ask if you have suffered a blow to the head?”
The confident smile drained from his features. A blend of confusion and indignation flickered in his eyes in its place. “What in Hades do ye mean?”
“I am struggling to understand how you could believe such an extravagant gesture would make me happy. Surely you must know I have no intention of being treated like... like your paramour.”
For a long moment, he regarded her silently. When he spoke, his voice sounded hard as flint. “Ye think that’s my intent? To set ye up as my kept woman?”
“Quite honestly, I don’t know what to think.” She gulped a breath, even as her heart raced. “I would like to think your motives were pure. But I am entirely certain of what everyone would say. Including my friends.”
“For the record, that was not my intent.” The taut set of his jaw eased, just a bit. “I want to protect ye. I want to provide whatever it takes to make ye happy, Amelia. Yer brother is not here. So now, it’s up to me to watch over ye, just as he would’ve wanted.”
Tears she didn’t dare shed prickled the backs of her eyes. “So, I am to believe this idea emerged from your determination to honor a vow?” She sighed. “That it’s not even about me. And you.”
“Of course it’s about ye. And me.” He coiled his long fingers around hers and pressed his lips softly to the back of her hand.
Amelia stared down at the glass, taking in the light reflecting off each delicate cut in the crystal. “I never expected any of this. Days ago, I was living my life, and you were living yours. Our existences are so very different. For years, I’ve sought calm and peace and stability. And now—I feel as though I am wading into the deep.”
“Ye lived a life without passion.” He framed her face in his hands. “Ye cannot lie to me. Ye want me, just as I want ye. I feel it in yer kiss. I feel it in yer touch.”
“I do want you.” Pulling away, she blinked back against the angry tears. “But this doesn’t feel right. What happens when you feel you’ve repaid your debt to Paul? What happens then?”
“What we have doesn’t have a blasted thing to do with any vow.”
Not with any vow.
Not to Paul.
Not to me.
“What precisely is it that we do have, Logan?”
“It’s damned good between us.” He came to his feet, went to the sideboard, and poured whisky into his glass. Slowly, he shook his head, leaving the tumbler as he turned back to her. “I know this, Amelia—I want ye more than I’ve ever wanted a woman in my bloody life.”
She swallowed the last of the sherry in her glass. “And what if that isn’t enough?” She met his eyes. “What if there is... a child?”
“We both know there are precautions.” He raked a hand through his hair. “But in the event a babe is meant to be, I will not turn away from my commitment. Ye can count on that, lass.”
“Commitment?” She fought against the urge to hurl the elegant brandy snifter against the fireplace if only to watch it shatter into bits. Just as her heart was shattering. “How very noble of you. And what if I need more... more than a reassurance that you will act out of honor? What if I need love?”
“Love?” An emotion she could not quite read flickered within the depths of his eyes. Turning his gaze from her, he swept a hand through his hair. “What in blazes could I possibly know about that sentimental rubbish?”
For a moment, she could only stare at him. He’d seemed to transform before her very eyes, the warmth in his expression stripped away.
“Scoff all you wish, but I know that love is notsentimental rubbish.” In her mind’s eye, she pictured her mother and father, and a fresh wave of emotion washed over her. Their bond had been deep and rich and enduring, unbroken until their last breaths. “I know love is quite real.”
“So, is that what ye want from me, lass? My blasted heart? Or is it a band of gold on yer finger that ye’re after?” Logan kepthis voice low, his words under tight control. He marched to the window, pulling back a drape to stare into the night. “I cannot do anything about the heart, lass. But the ring can be arranged. That is, if ye truly wish to tie yerself to a man like me for the rest of yer life. What would ye say if I asked ye to marry me?”
She folded her arms and glared at his back. “An hour ago, I might have believed the answer to that question to be ‘Yes.’”
He turned to her, the set of his features unreadable. If her words surprised him, he didn’t betray it. “Did ye, now, Amelia?”
She steeled her spine even as she swallowed her hurt. “Fortunately, you have done an excellent job of ridding me of such foolish notions. Rest assured, I have no intention of becoming your—or any man’s—mistress.”
An icy hardness fell over his features. “In that case, ye can thank me for clearing yer head. Now ye can bide yer time and wait for some high-and-mighty bloke to whisk ye away to his country manor. A beauty like ye should have no trouble enticing some chinless fop to bend down on one knee.”
A hot tear streamed down her cheek. It felt as though it had seared her flesh. “What has made you so cold?”
